


Time of the Unknown

by Bookdancer



Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers (2012), Canonical Character Death, Clint Barton-centric, Gen, Sam and Dean don't show up until the third chapter, although it is necessary for the story, but they do show up and they are important, plus one non-canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 11:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10943370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookdancer/pseuds/Bookdancer
Summary: AU: Clint stumbles across the world of the supernatural to find that Death wants him to deliver his ring to two hunters named Sam and Dean Winchester. Set during the end of Supernatural season five and before Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11123860/1/Time-of-the-Unknown .
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers or Supernatural.

Clint turned at the sound of rushed footsteps behind him, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank goodness," he said, "I've been waiting for you to come. You got the call twenty-five minutes ago, where were you guys?"

The three men who he was talking to ignored him, racing past to the scene that the archer had been shadowing for the past half hour.

"I'm sorry," Clint said as he followed. "I know you guys are probably upset at me and everything, but I swear I did everything I could. It just… I guess it wasn't enough. But you're here now, so everything's gonna be fine, ya know? I mean…" He let out a huff of breath as he was still ignored. "You're Captain America, right Steve? You make everything right. I don't think there's anything you can't do. And Tony, you're Iron Man! You're a Stark, I bet you could help out with the technical stuff, right? And Bruce… man, just please don't hulk out. I couldn't take it if you did because I know it'd be all my fault and you'd still find a way to blame yourself. So don't do it, 'kay?"

He was most definitely rambling there, and Clint didn't ramble, he just… well, he didn't do it. But he did.

Clint continued to follow them, watching as Bruce swallowed at the sight before turning away, making his way to an alleyway and throwing up everything that he had eaten for breakfast an hour ago.

Steve had a look on his face that Clint had never seen before, and he was certain that he didn't want to see it again. "Steve?" He questioned. "Steve, hey… Cap? You with me? You're not gonna throw up like Banner, right? I mean, it's not that bad, right? You can…" He choked for the first time since the entire situation had begun, cutting off his rambling (because he was definitely getting there, and wasn't that funny?) and wondering what would happen if the situation couldn't be fixed. How would they go on with their lives?

"Steve?" Tony's voice was choked out, an echo of what Clint had already asked, and Steve turned slightly to acknowledge his teammate. "Steve, can we…?"

"No." Steve's voice came out raspy, and Clint blinked in surprise when he realized that there were tears beginning to find their way down normally tan but now so pale cheeks. Apparently he wasn't the only one feeling out of his comfort zone. "No, Tony, we can't… we can't fix it. Can't fix him. I just… we can't. What's done is done. Clint… man, Barton, why'd you have to do this?"

Clint shook his head, blond spikes of hair beginning to flop over his forehead since he hadn't cut it in a few months. "I'm sorry, Cap. I didn't mean to, I swear. It just happened so suddenly, I couldn't stop it!"

Bruce staggered back to the small group, his eyes watering and filled with pain. "I… we… Natasha… We gotta tell Natasha. And Thor. Tony, can you contact Thor?"

"No!" Clint burst out. "No, you can't tell them yet! We can still fix it! Steve, please, you can't tell them yet! You can't tell Tasha!"

Once again, however, he found himself being ignored.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Yeah, I think so. I… Pepper's been talking to Jane… oh man, what's Pepper going to think?"

"She doesn't have to think anything about it, Tony," Clint said, finally acknowledging that yes, maybe he was doing a bit of pleading about this. But it was a whole new experience for him, surely they'd give him some slack and listen?

"I can't tell Natasha," Steve said. "I… she's on a mission, but I can tell Director Fury. He… he can pass on the information."

Finally someone else approached them, her face sympathetic. She was dressed in an EMT's uniform, and blood covered her front and hands. The woman had blond hair, and Clint's eyes were drawn to it as she unconsciously ran her hands through it, leaving red streaks behind.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but notice that you all looked a bit lost. Is there any reason that you're here? I mean, sorry, I know you're Captain America, and you're Tony Stark, and… Bruce Banner, right?" Bruce's nod prompted her to continue on. "Sorry, but like I said, I just… I guess I don't understand why…" She trailed off, beginning to look embarrassed.

"No, ma'am, it's fine," Steve said. "He… he's our teammate is all. Hawkeye. We… someone called and said that he'd…"

The EMT blinked, now appearing surprised as she looked back to where the ambulances and a firetruck had converged on the scene. A sedan was stopped in the middle of the road, the front bumper crumpled in, blood spattered on the inside, and a man sitting in the driver's seat with his feet resting on the pavement. His head was bowed, a white bandage wrapped around his left bicep and blood trickling down the side of his face from his hairline while a male EMT examined him for other injuries. The only thing that they could see of the other vehicle was a motorcycle wheel poking out from behind an ambulance.

More EMTs were carefully rolling a body onto a stretcher, and Clint caught the slightest glimpse before it was covered with a white sheet. The body had had blond hair that was plastered to his face with blood, more of which was already beginning to soak through the sheet. He had been wearing jeans and a black jacket had covered his shirt. Purple chucks had stood out against the bleak backdrop, and as soon as he saw them disappear he knew that it was done. He was done.

One look at his teammates' faces showed that they knew the same thing. Tony's face crumpled just like the sedan's bumper, Bruce looked like he was going to throw up again, and Steve pressed his forehead against the heel of his right hand.

"I'm so sorry," the EMT said finally. "I… we didn't know that he…"

"Yeah," Tony said, his voice harsh with unshed tears and anger at the world, "most people don't."

"Tony…" Steve warned, but everyone could tell that his heart wasn't really in it. He turned back to the EMT, his face already hardening in an attempt to hide the pain he was feeling. It didn't work on Clint - not when he was the reason Steve was in pain. "How did it happen?"

"He came out of nowhere, Steve," Clint responded, but the EMT was already talking over him, even if she didn't realize it.

"There were very few witnesses as this isn't a very popular area of the city, but all say that the sedan came around the corner a bit too fast and lost control. The motorcyclist - sorry, Hawkeye - didn't have time to get out of the way due to his proximity to the sedan. According to the witnesses he was flung from his bike and then lost consciousness upon impact with the ground. He came around shortly after we got here, but we were still too late." She paused before speaking again. "I'm sorry, truly I am, but you're going to have to come to the morgue to identify the body."

"You don't have to do that," Clint told them uselessly. "It's me. This-" Here he waved a hand toward his body, "-proves it. I'm done. Finished. Dead."

"That you are," another voice agreed, and Clint whirled around, surprised that someone was actually talking to him. A tall man stood there, his face gaunt with high cheekbones and his eyes black and sunken into his head. He was wearing a black suit and overcoat, a silver ring adorning his right hand ring finger while he gripped a black cane. Clint held no doubt as to who this strange man was.

"You're death."

"With a capital D," the man agreed. "Not what you expected?"

"What, with the scythe and hood and everything?" Clint snorted. "No, I didn't expect you at all."

"Ah, so you're one of those people," Death observed.

"One of which people?" Clint asked, watching as his teammates - his old teammates - walked away from him, most likely going to do exactly what Clint had told them not to.

"One of those 'bright lights and a tunnel and a choir of angels' people."

Clint bit back a laugh. "No, definitely not. I'm more of those 'and everything fades to black' people. I don't believe in Heaven. Not anymore, anyway. So yeah, let's just say I wasn't expecting to wake up again… and definitely not like this."

"What if I told you Heaven is real? And the angels?" Death paused, watching for Clint's reaction. Clint didn't give him one. "And the demons?"

"Sure…" Clint said finally. "Really. Like I'm supposed to believe that when you're here? Sorry, but if you'll excuse me I'll be-"

Clint froze mid-sentence, watching as Steve stopped next to his motorcycle. Unlike the sedan, his bike wouldn't be surviving to run another day. It was completely trashed, but Clint knew that that wasn't what stopped his teammate.

"Steve…" The name left his lips soft, drawn-out, and Clint wished it didn't sound so much like the whimper it could have been.

The leader of the Avengers knelt next to the bike and opened one of the saddle bags. The bag was slightly longer than a normal one, custom made to fit one thing - Hawkeye's quiver. Steve reached in and grasped the strap, shouldering the quiver and, as a result, the bow that was folded into the bottom of the quiver. The blond man surveyed the scene once more before continuing after Tony and Bruce, who had stopped and waited for him.

Clint watched as they exchanged a few words, only catching "Jar-", "-py", and "ride". He groaned, knowing that they would be waiting for a few minutes before Happy came to pick them up and that that gave Death a chance to keep talking.

"I did not come here to reap your soul, Clint," the voice came from behind him, and Clint turned.

"Don't you have anything better to do than bother me, then? Like, oh, I dunno, go bother someone else?"

Death kept talking, ignoring Clint's sarcastic comment. "Lucifer wishes me to, though. I need you to tell me 'no'."

"Wait, hold up," Clint said, forgetting his annoyance. "Lucifer? As in the devil?"

"The very one."

"What does he have to do with anything?"

Death gave him a look that made him feel like he did when he went to Barney for help for his nightmares at age fourteen - childish, insignificant, and foolish. "It has everything to do with him. Lucifer escaped his cage several months ago, and since then the Apocalypse has raged all over the earth. He raised me a few weeks ago, enslaving me under his service. I have no choice but to serve him."

"So why disobey him?" Clint asked, figuring that no matter how annoying Death was, the Apocalypse was probably something he should be taking notes on. "That is what you're doing, right?"

"It is. And I'm doing it because I do not wish to serve him. I do not care who wins this fight - Lucifer or Michael, it does not matter, and it does not matter if they tear the earth apart doing the same to each other. But I do not wish to serve him. Unfortunately, a potential ally is taking… well, a little too long figuring out that he is my potential ally. So now I come to you on Lucifer's request but doing my own business."

"And what is that business?"

"You must tell me 'no' first."

"No to what? You're not making any sense!"

"Death is not supposed to make sense," the Pale Horseman replied. "But you are supposed to say no to me reaping your soul. I cannot touch it if you do not give me your permission."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't want you to reap it anyway," Clint grumbled. "But what does Lucifer want with my soul?"

"You ask too many questions," Death replied with a frown.

"So sue me," the archer answered sarcastically.

"No," Death said. "I would much rather just tell you this way."

"What way?" Clint asked.

Death answered by pressing his right index, middle, and ring fingers to Clint's forehead, forcing him to watch as a slideshow of events flew past before his eyes.

He saw a man with sores breaking out over his face, two men inside of a car, another man in a trench coat, and then the two men forcefully taking three rings from three other men. He watched as the man with the sores raised Death and greeted him before giving him his first command. He saw all of this and more before he was finally brought back to the present, gaping at the Horseman in front of him.

"Those two men that you saw are Sam and Dean Winchester. They hunt the supernatural and are attempting to stop the Apocalypse. I need you to deliver my ring to them so that they can put Lucifer back where he came from. But first, I need you to say no."

Clint frowned, eying Death. What he had said matched with what the archer had seen and certainly explained several of the things that had mystified SHIELD and the Avengers lately. But he was also Death. Surely that counted against him?

"You know what will happen if you don't say no, right?" Death asked, his voice oozing velvet.

"What will happen if I do?" Clint countered.

"I give you the ring, you deliver it, the Winchesters hopefully defeat Lucifer and all of humanity is saved. That is what you want, correct? Or was I sorely mistaken?"

"No, what happens to me? Just for future reference."

Death smiled at him, obviously amused. "No need to lie to me, Clint. I know you're protecting your own interests. Self-preservation and all that, right? But no matter - even if I tell you that you'll go to hell you're still going to say no."

"Maybe I will," Clint said. "Maybe I won't. Now how about fucking tell me what will happen?"

Death narrowed his eyes at him. "I would watch your tongue around me if I were you, Clint. You have no idea how old I am. You are but a bug beneath my feet that I can step on whenever I wish. So choose your words wisely."

Clint shook his head, exasperated. "The bug spiel again, huh? You pompous bastards all think the same." Death gave him a warning look, and Clint sighed. "Fine. Now will you please explain to me what will happen?"

"Whatever you want to happen. You want to come back and tell one of my reapers 'yes', then do so. You want to stay and haunt people for the rest of eternity, be my guest. But do not come crying to me if you make the wrong choice - you can only choose once."

Clint sighed, watching as Happy finally pulled up in Tony's limo. The three Avengers began to climb inside, taking their seats on the leather.

"Alright. Fine. No, I don't want you to take my soul. You happy, now?"

Death didn't make any remarks, only nodding before holding out his ring. Clint took it from him, turning it over in his hands and examining it. The Horseman began to walk away before he turned, a somewhat amused smile on his face. "Oh, and you may feel a little pinch as they drive away. You have to be locked onto something in order to be a ghost, after all, and I don't imagine it's your motorcycle."

"What?" Clint asked, confused. "What's that-"

He was interrupted by a tugging in his gut, one that got stronger as he watched the limo leave and get further away. Finally, just as the limo turned a corner three blocks away, something snapped, reminding him of a rubber band that recoils back into place after having been stretched beyond its limit. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes he was next to Bruce inside the limo.

"Did it get cold all of a sudden?" Clint heard dimly, and he frowned. It sounded almost like he was the one speaking, but he wasn't.

He watched as Tony turned to look at him, and he almost gave a yell of triumph before he remembered that he had most definitely not been the one talking. That, and he could only see Bruce and Tony.

"No, Cap, pretty sure it's only you," Tony said. "Maybe the ice has finally made its way inside of you." What would normally have been said with a perfect amount of snark was said glumly and without any real humor.

"Cap?" Clint questioned. He looked down to see two pairs of legs sticking out from his lap. "Crap, Steve, I'm sorry!"

He jolted away from the other blond with a jerk, darting over to sit next to Tony. He fought back a blush as he realized that he had essentially just been sitting on Steve's lap. Then Clint frowned, wondering what had caused him to be pulled inside of the limo. His eyes found the quiver that Steve had laid on the seat between him and Bruce, and for the first time since the whole situation had begun he allowed a smile to fight its way onto his lips. He always had said that his bow and quiver held his soul - now they held it literally.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Clint stumbles across the world of the supernatural to find that Death wants him to deliver his ring to two hunters named Sam and Dean Winchester. Set during the end of Supernatural season five and before Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11123860/1/Time-of-the-Unknown .
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers or Supernatural.

Clint discovered rather quickly what it meant to be a ghost. Or, rather, the rules to being a ghost. Whatever a ghost was tied to - in his case, his bow - was a permanent fixture in their life. He couldn't stray more than about three-quarters of a mile from it. Thankfully, this meant that he still had full roam of the Avengers Tower. If he attempted to leave, however, he could only make it a quarter of a block before he was tugged right back into his old room, where his bow was set on the wall with all of his other weapons.

He didn't have to eat or drink, and sleeping wasn't necessary, either - just a way to pass the time. Touching salt and lead were huge no-no's, as he discovered in different circumstances that he would rather not repeat.

Moving things was possible, but it got harder the larger or heavier an item was. He quickly discovered a certain joy in spilling Tony's coffee and leaving paper clips everywhere around the tower - Tony thought Dum-E was doing the former, while Natasha - who had gotten back from her mission as quickly as possible, Tony, and Bruce would frown and automatically suspect Steve when yet another paper clip was discovered someplace it shouldn't have been. Clint wouldn't have been surprised if Steve was beginning to regret being the only one who really used paper documents and newspapers in the Tower.

Pepper, on the other hand, was growing suspiciously fond of Dum-E - Clint suspected that she agreed with Tony on the coffee matter, just from a different point of view.

He also wasn't sure if ghosts had the ability to physically appear to other people. He could see himself, but Clint knew beyond a doubt that no one could see him. If they had, he knew Tony would have killed him (or at least swiped a lead pipe through him) after he unplugged the TV in the middle of his  _Star Trek_  marathon.

One problem that he discovered, however, beyond not being seen, was getting the Winchesters to come to him. With his spirit locked onto his bow he couldn't really go anywhere.

That was when he remembered that the Winchesters hunted the supernatural. All he had to do was haunt Avengers Tower and get them to come to him - and hopefully not be killed in the process.

And so began Clint's new career of haunting his teammates.

* * *

Tony would swear on his life - and his father's grave, and his mother's grave, on Pepper's life, and even Dum-E's sorry pathetic excuse for a robot's life - that the Avengers Tower was being haunted. No doubt about it. At first he had thought it was Dum-E knocking over his coffee. Then, however, he finally got so fed up with making repeated trips to the communal kitchen for more coffee that he shut Dum-E out of his lab for the day. His coffee still got knocked over, and he was nowhere near it at the time. He was convinced. The Tower was haunted.

"The tower is haunted, Steve."

"That's ridiculous, Tony," Steve told him, attempting to focus on the documents in his lap.

Tony peered over Steve's shoulder, leaning on the couch in the communal living room as he attempted to see what Steve was working on. All he had to see was Steve's neat handwriting spelling out "Funeral Arrangements" at the top of the page before he backed off, sliding to the floor so that his back was pressed to the couch and his legs were spread out in front of him. Dum-E rolled toward him, a washcloth already in hand - or claw, but the schematics weren't really necessary.

"No, Dum-E, I'm fine," Tony snapped at the robot.

The robot gave a whir and kept on advancing.

"Dum-E?" Tony asked. "Dum-E, do I need to reprogram you?"

The threat - which wouldn't really have been carried out, but like he had said, the schematics weren't really necessary - didn't work as it normally did. Dummy just gave another whir and kept on coming, but now a different tool was held in his claw. Tony wasn't completely sure, but he was certain that he did not want to know what his robot planned on doing with the wrench.

"Dum-E?" Tony would forever deny that his voice cracked.

Steve, however, had no such problem. "Did your voice just crack?"

"Shut up, old man!" Tony snapped. "I'm a growing boy!"

"Mentally, maybe," Steve agreed with a chuckle. Sudden silence came, and Tony bet that Steve had just looked back down at the documents in his lap.

"Um, Steve? Cap?" Tony questioned. "I think something is possessing Dum-E."

"Are you sure it isn't just a malfunction or something?"

Tony scoffed. "Of course not! I made him, not some incompetent corporate robot making business! He's also coming after me with a wrench, Steve, so if you could maybe give some help to a fellow Avenger, that'd be much appreciated."

There was more silence, and Tony was just beginning to wonder if Steve was really going to leave him to Dum-E's possessed robot claw when a tall figure stepped out from around the couch, casting a long shadow over Dum-E. Almost instantaneously the robot stopped.

"Yeah, Tony," Steve said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his voice - and since when did the Capsicle know what sarcasm was, let alone how to use it? "Dum-E is being possessed. I'm sure of it."

All Tony could do was gape at Dum-E as Steve returned to his work, a stunned expression on the inventor's face.

" _Now_  you stop?" Tony asked his robot, and Dum-E gave another whir and began to move forward again. "Steve!"

* * *

Thor had come as soon as Jane had contacted him, stumbling over her words about Pepper and the Avengers and a car crash and Clint's motorcycle and Clint and a funeral. Thor came as soon as he could, but not soon enough, in Thor's mind. To him, soon enough would have meant reaching Clint before the crash and his subsequent death. Soon enough would have been stopping Clint from leaving the tower until eight oh nine, exactly two minutes after the crash would have occurred - one minute to keep it from happening and another just to be safe. As soon as he could was not soon enough.

Within hours of moving in, the demigod was being bombarded with tales of spilt coffee, paper clips mysteriously turning up in weird places ("There was one in my shoe, Thor! My shoe!"), and a possessed Dum-E.

"We're being haunted, Thor," Tony had concluded seriously.

Thor was used to absurd Midguardian stories, but this one had piqued his interest, so he continued to ask questions from Tony, purposefully ignoring the raised eyebrows and strange looks from the rest of his teammates. He didn't say anything about ghosts or a poltergeist being a welcome distraction from his other teammate's death. He also didn't mention hearing about an archangel named Gabriel pretending to be his brother or about how someone (rumor had it it was the devil himself) had killed an entire group of Pagan gods, including his father's representative (because it would be rather stupid, wouldn't it, if they sent Odin himself down to do business with the other gods?). He didn't talk about how apparently the Four Horsemen had been raised and the Apocalypse was in full surge and about how three hunters and an angel were fighting against destiny itself.

Thor didn't say anything to them, but he did want to talk to Clint.

* * *

Clint wasn't feeling that good. It wasn't his health or anything (besides the obvious fact that he was dead), but rather his morale. He had been trying for the past week to get the Winchesters to come over, but as of yet he had had no luck. The pranks he was playing just didn't seem to warrant any attention in the newspapers or online, which he figured would be the only way to get the hunters' attention. While Tony seemed pretty dead set on the Tower being haunted, he hadn't figured out that it was Clint (and really, Tony? The hauntings start the day your teammate dies and you still don't know?), and the rest of the Avengers seemed convinced that Tony was playing games and attempting to get their mind off of the fact that Clint was gone.

He had felt a twinge of hope when Thor had arrived before he remembered that Norse mythology that wasn't really mythology and Christianity probably didn't mix too often.

Which lead to him hanging out in the vents like he used to, watching the movie that Tony had practically forced the other Avengers to watch. It wasn't that the movie wasn't good (even Steve would normally appreciate a military movie like  _Top Gun_ ), but rather that they simply didn't want to bother.

Bruce had settled into the armchair with a heavy sigh but also refused to give up his notes (which, Clint had discovered earlier, were of necromancy of all things) and was paying more attention to them than to Maverick. Steve and Natasha were seated on opposite ends of the couch, both sitting stiffly and obviously otherwise preoccupied with their own notes (that Clint didn't want to look at at all - every time he chanced a glance they always had something like 'funeral', 'last will and-', or 'Agent' written across the top). Even Tony wasn't fully relaxed, scanning through his tablet and looking through the schematics of what looked like Dum-E. Only Thor actually seemed to be enjoying the movie, and he figured that had more to do with the fact that all of the fight scenes took place in the air than anything else.

So he decided to do something about it.

The archer carefully focused on the TV and within seconds he was standing right next to it. He frowned at his teammates, wondering what he could do. Of course, being Clint Barton, it didn't take him that long to come up with an idea.

One finger pressed to the flatscreen TV was all it took for the movie to begin jumping around. Clint gave a grin as he heard a loud roar come from Thor as he skipped to the very end of the movie, back to the beginning, and finally to somewhere in the middle that was nowhere close to where the movie had been before he got his idea.

Then he looked at his teammates. Bruce, he noticed with a frown, hadn't even bothered to look up and see what all the commotion was about. Steve and Natasha were frowning at Thor, Tony was gaping at the TV (which Clint was very pleased to see), and Thor was staring at the flatscreen with a murderous expression on his face.

"Barton, I have had enough of your games!" The demigod roared, and this time it was Clint's turn to gape. "Show yourself! Now!"

"What? Thor, have you gone crazy?" Steve questioned as Thor leapt to his feet.

"Your so called 'haunter', Man of Iron, is none other than Clint Barton!" Thor shouted. "And as I said, enough of your games! Now show yourself!"

Clint stared at his fellow blond Avenger, his stormy eyes wide. He hadn't realized that Thor knew it was him. And by the other Avengers' expressions, they hadn't thought Thor really believed Tony. They'd probably thought he was just humoring the genius.

"Thor, it's not Clint," Steve said. "Tony, stop trying to drag us into these games. And fix the TV."

With those words, the captain left the room, taking the stairs up to (presumably) his bedroom. Natasha frowned at both Thor and Tony, shaking her head with a scowl before following Steve. Bruce gave a sigh and heaved himself to his feet, heading for the elevator with his head still buried in his notes.

"I'm going to the lab," he muttered as he passed Tony. "Come join me when you're ready to be sensible."

"But I'm-" Tony tried, his hand reaching out as if to drag Bruce back. It fell back to his side when Bruce spoke.

"My lab, Jarvis." His eyes met Tony's, but the others could all see that he was still addressing the AI. "Make it quick, please. I have work to do."

Tony stared at the elevator doors as they closed, the blinking light illuminating the floors it passed. Finally he shook his head and began to walk in the direction of his bar.

"I need a drink," he said in explanation, but Clint couldn't tell if he was talking to himself or to Thor (and, consequently, Clint, but Tony didn't know that).

"Man of Iron," Thor began, but Tony interrupted him.

"Tony, Thor. My name is Tony. Stark if you want to go monosyllable. I'm not in my suit, so I'm not Iron Man."

"My apologies… Tony." Thor replied, and Clint gave a laugh at the look on his face. He was obviously not completely adjusted to naming people without the use of a title. "But I will not apologize for what I said earlier. It is Hawkeye… Clint… who is haunting this tower. I just do not know why."

"No need to lie to me, Point Break," Tony said as he grabbed a beer from the fridge. "Go ahead and yell at me all you want. Tell me I'm crazy. I can take it."

"You are not crazy," Thor replied firmly, "And I will not yell at you."

"There, see, don't you-" Tony stopped talking and turned to face the demigod. "Wait, what did you just say?"

Clint rolled his eyes. "Iron Ass," he groaned. "I'm real! My ghost is, anyway."

Thor spoke at the same time as Clint, unaware that the archer had begun to talk. "I said that you are not crazy, and that I will not yell at you. Not right now, anyway. What you have been saying is not another of your normal crazy notions. Your tower is haunted."

"… Did you just compliment and insult me in the same sentence?" Tony asked, and then shook his head. "Never mind. Wait, no. I'll get you back later. But… shit, Clint is haunting us?"

Thor nodded, and Clint chimed in with a "You betcha!"

"Son of a bitch…" Tony said. "Clint? If you weren't already, you would be so dead. Seriously, I'd set Dum-E on you. I bet he'd be happy to, what with how he was- Legolass, you jerk! That was you, wasn't it?"

"The possessed robot?" Thor questioned. "Yes, I believe it was Clint, along with the coffee, paper clips, and the magic box."

"TV, Thor," Clint told him absentmindedly before remembering that he couldn't be heard.

"TV, Thor," Tony said as he tilted the beer bottle back, pouring the burning liquid down his throat. "So," he continued. "Why isn't he talking to us?"

"I am," Clint remarked. "You just can't hear me."

"I suspect that he is," Thor replied. "He is a rather recent ghost, so if I am not mistaken he just has not gotten the 'hang of it' yet, as you Midguardians would say."

"Great," Tony said. "So how do we get Casper here to contact us?"

"Casper?" Thor questioned, a confused look on his face. "I was not aware that you had two ghosts."

Tony and Clint groaned simultaneously, both rolling their eyes, though for different reasons - Tony at Thor for his ignorance and Clint at Tony for his ridiculousness.

"We don't," Tony said. "It was a TV reference, and we seriously need to get you and the Capsicle caught up on technology and stuff like that. You guys are like the Pitiful Pair or something."

"Or something," Clint agreed. "And I doubt Thor got that reference, either, Tony."

"You dare call me pitiful?" Thor asked, his eyes narrowing as he drew himself up to his full height.

"Totally, Point Break," Tony replied with a smirk. "You and the Cap, both. At least when it comes to new tech like what the 21st century has."

"I will pretend that you did not say that," Thor warned him. "But if there is a next time, I will not hesitate to rip your head from your neck and crush it like I did a troll's several centuries ago."

Tony stared at him, a bemused look on his face. "I can't decide whether you're serious or not, so I'm just gonna ignore that threat."

"Do what you wish," Thor said with a dismissive gesture. "I will attempt to see if I can contact Clint. Perhaps Heimdall will be able to see him…"

Clint shrugged, leaning back against the bar and crossing his arms over his chest. "Worth a shot," he remarked, "But I doubt it'll work. Not unless Heimdall can see ghosts."

He blinked as both of his old teammates froze mid-action, Tony reaching for another beer and Thor walking toward the landing pad. Both slowly turned to stare at him.

Wait.

Stare at him?

The short-haired blond looked down at himself and then back up Thor and Tony. He pointed to his chest, "Did you hear me? Can… Can you see me?"

"Oh my holy fricken shit."

"I doubt your crap is holy, Tony," Clint replied cheekily, a huge grin on his face. Now they were getting somewhere in this supernatural business!

"Don't get smart with me, young man," Tony fired back. "You are grounded for the next month for the pranks you pulled. No, make it two months. I think you need some self discipline."

"For the next… forever, actually," Clint said. "I can't get beyond a quarter block from here. Something to do with my soul being locked onto my bow or some other crap like that."

"Welcome back, Agent Barton!" Thor finally said, striding toward the duo next to the bar. Clint allowed himself a bit of pride for actually silencing the demigod for more than a minute.

"Hey, Thor."

"You have been missed greatly, my friend," Thor said, sadness beginning to cloud his eyes. Clint really hoped that the other blond would remember that demigods don't cry before he had a bawling six foot something guy sitting at Tony Stark's bar. That'd be a story the press would love to get their hands on.

"I've been here the whole time," he replied. "Well, kind of. I had a bit of an incident with the limo and everything, but I think I'm finally getting the hang of being a ghost."

"Wait…" Tony said, and Clint belatedly realized that he should not have mentioned the limo. "Did you sit on Cap's lap?"

"In it, actually," The archer replied glumly, before his mouth got the memo that, occasionally, sticking your foot in your own mouth was a good thing.

"Wow… you know, if you really wanna tell Capsicle your feelings, I'd be happy to schedule-"

"Aaaannnddd we're moving on," Clint said. "Look, guys, I know you only just got to see me, but I've got a bit of a favor that I need done. Tony, I don't suppose you could get in contact with the press?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Clint stumbles across the world of the supernatural to find that Death wants him to deliver his ring to two hunters named Sam and Dean Winchester. Set during the end of Supernatural season five and before Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11123860/1/Time-of-the-Unknown .
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers or Supernatural.

"Tell me you have something," Dean groaned, flopping onto his back with his calves and feet hanging over the edge of the bed. The two Winchesters were occupying yet another of their normal motels. It was dingy, small, in the middle of Nowhere, Iowa, about to collapse, and its primary residents seemed to be an infestation of rats.

"Mmmhmm," Sam replied, his eyes glued to his laptop screen. "Possibly."

"What do you mean, 'possibly'?" Dean questioned, sitting up. "It either is or it isn't."

"A haunting in Stark Tower?" Sam asked, looking at his older brother with a look of disbelief in his eyes. "Really?"

Dean blinked, frowning. "Huh. Well, shit. What's going on?"

"Well, according to a lot of sources - mainly the press, Tony Stark is claiming that his tower is haunted. Apparently the Avengers have been pranked multiple times. And, get this: Not only was their teammate, Hawkeye, killed just last week, but Thor, as in the Pagan god Thor, is supporting Stark's claims. He says that Hawkeye is the one doing the hauntings."

"But wasn't the archer guy killed in a car crash or something? That wouldn't make him want to haunt his old teammates, would it?"

"Not unless they're hiding something, no," Sam agreed. "But they're the Avengers, so that's highly unlikely. My best guess is that for some reason, he was able to say no to whoever his reaper was. The pranks don't seem to be deadly, just playful."

"… so are we going to take him out?"

"That's our best option, yeah," Sam replied. "Even if he's not malevolent now, he could turn to violence as soon as something bad happens. You can never tell with spirits."

"So we're off to New York City, then!" Dean said with a grin. "You know they have the best pizza, right?"

* * *

They had never been to New York City before. Despite the large amount of monsters and spirits that roamed the streets there, John had always told them that other hunters were taking care of them. The Big Apple, he had said, was too crowded with monsters, spirits, and people alike; it was too big, too dirty. He would make excuse after excuse, but they all lead up to the same thing - too dangerous.

Now that they were finally there, staring up at Stark Tower, Sam wondered if they were somehow dirtying their father's memory by being there. He dismissed the thought after a minute. This was a hunt, and they were adults now, not kids. John would be proud of them. He fixed the new thought in his mind, holding it firmly.

"Hey, Sammy, you coming?"

Dean's call jerked Sam out of his thoughts, and he realized that while he was thinking Dean had walked right up to the tower door and was now holding it open. An impatient look crossed his face, and the shorter man gestured toward the lobby.

"It's Sam," said man replied absently. Something strange had caught his eye. High above all of the people on the sidewalk, at least thirty floors up, what looked like a red flag flapped harshly in the wind that was no doubt much stronger up there, hanging from one of the many windows. If he looked closely, though, it looked more like a cape than a flag. Sam blinked in realization. Was that…? Yeah. Yeah, it was. "Hey, Dean, you may wanna come check this out."

"Check what out?" Dean questioned, hurrying back toward his younger brother.

Sam pointed upward in response.

"Is that…?"

"Yep."

"How long do think it'll take Thor to realize it's gone? And how angry do you think he'll be?"

Sam knew that, normally, those questions would be asked by a concerned person. Dean, though? No way. "Do you really want to see an angry Norse god, Dean?"

Dean flashed a smirk at Sam. "Sammy, you know I do."

* * *

Sam supposed that they really should have been prepared and thought, "Stark Tower is going to have a lot more security than we're used to because it was built by Tony Stark." That didn't happen. At all.

"This is your fault," Dean remarked, laying on the one cot and scowling up at the ceiling of the small room they were being kept in until "Mr. Stark is available and can see you."

"My fault?" Sam asked in disbelief, seated on the floor next to a wall with his long legs stretched out in front of him. "You were the one who tried to ride Stark's private elevator! It said 'private' for a reason, Dean!"

"Well, you were supposed to do the research! Why didn't you tell me security was so tough here? Seriously, I think there's a hand-shaped bruise forming on my wrist, and my shoulders are still sore."

"People don't exactly advertise their security. And how was I supposed to know that a security guard would yank your arms behind your back?"

"Oh, I dunno," Dean began sarcastically, "Maybe if you took that-"

He stopped abruptly, staring at the door as it opened and a shorter man stepped through, his face adorned with a goatee and a slight smirk on his lips as he took in the two brothers, each with a pair of handcuffs tightened around their wrists.

"Oh, don't stop for me," he said, "Please, continue."

Dean stared back at Tony Stark with a stony expression on his face. "No, actually, I don't think so."

"Well, see, you're here to kill one of my teammates, right, Dean?" Stark asked, acting completely unfazed.

"No, actually, we're not," Dean answered, "We just had some business to take care of."

"See, here's what's going to happen," Stark said, leaning up against the door he had just closed as if he had nothing better to do. "I'm going to tell you that I know you just lied to me, and that you're both the Winchesters, supposedly misunderstood nation-wide criminals who actually hunt each and every Boogeyman to their deaths. I'm also going to tell you that I know you're here to take care of my own personal Boogeyman, Casper the friendly ghost, and you're going to say, 'Who, me? Naaaawwww, of course not,' but I'll know you're lying because you two hunt ghosts. Then I'll tell you that my best friend, Clint, actually has something for you and that it's from Death. The Death, and apparently it's very important to ending this apocalypse that no one's had a clue is even going on. And after all of that's been sorted out, we'll go over the plan to get the two of you upstairs at a time when no one else will be around so you can get this very special gift from the Death and go on your cheery way."

Dean and Sam both stared at the older man, surprised that Tony Stark of all people knew what was going on. They shared a glance, green eyes meeting hazel, before turning back to the billionaire.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Sam asked finally.

"You don't, of course," Stark replied, "But my buddy Thor said that you've got a good history of making deals that don't pan out exactly the way you planned, so the way I figure, if you could trust those guys, then you should be able to trust someone who'll give you exactly what you ask for."

Sam frowned as Stark mentioned the deals, shooting a look at his older brother to see if he would respond. The blonde neglected to show any emotion beyond a brief glimpse of anger that clouded his eyes.

"Okay," Dean said eventually, "So why can't Hawkeye just give us this gift now?"

Stark shrugged. "Apparently the bird can't handle the iron or something, and he hates being walked through. The lobby is a very crowded place, you know."

Sam pictured the number of people that had been converged in the lobby of Stark Tower and nodded slowly before frowning. "Why couldn't he just hand the gift off to you?"

Stark rolled his eyes. "Some kind of magic, we're figuring. Clint couldn't give the ring to me, and he couldn't put it down. Seems Death is kind of touchy about who gets to touch his stuff."

This time it was Dean who nodded, sitting up on the cot and twisting so his back and hands were to the door. "Okay, now do you mind getting these off? Seriously, I'm starting to think we're not welcome."

Sam rolled his eyes in unison with the multi-billionaire, but still stood and turned, presenting his own cuffed hands to Stark. Said man sighed but nodded in acknowledgement, tugging the key from his back pocket before approaching the younger Winchester.

A click sounded, and Sam pulled his wrists from the confining iron, rubbing his hands over them in an attempt to soothe the ache. As he watched, Stark clipped the handcuffs to his belt and then headed for Dean, smirking at the annoyed look on the blonde's face.

"The plan?" Sam questioned once his brother was free and joining the other two men in standing.

Stark, however, shook his head. "Not here. I shouldn't have even told you everything that I did, but I figured you needed to trust me before I let you go. We'll talk in my office."

The two Winchesters followed as the billionaire exited the room, hurrying through the lobby of his own building in the direction of a hallway directly opposite of the one their momentary cell had been in. Sam's head went up, examining the support structure and all of the clear glass before his eyes wandered around, taking in the dozens of tourists who had decided to visit the most famous tower in New York City. A receptionist had a desk by the front door, obviously to head off anyone who looked like they had business with Tony Stark.

"Nice place," Dean commented, and Sam glanced over at him to see his brother's eyes also scanning the large room, though the younger of the two didn't doubt that he was looking for enemies and exits.

"Thanks," Stark replied. "It's a lot nicer looking when people aren't beating up my security guards, though."

Dean shrugged. "They got in our way."

"I could tell," the oldest man replied, his voice dry.

"And I imagine you understand," Dean added, raising an eyebrow.

"I understand that you came here to kill my best friend after he already died."

"Oh, that's cold," Dean said before his eyes hardened. "Look, Stark, you may see him as your best friend, but he's not. At least, not anymore he's not. As soon as someone becomes a ghost, they become dangerous. It may take a few months, maybe a couple years if you're lucky, but eventually Hawkeye is going to stop being a ghost and become a vengeful spirit. And when that happens, you'll be lucky if Sam and I are still alive to take care of him for you."

Dean turned from Stark, marching into the office clearly labeled as the billionaire's and dropping into a chair in front of the only desk occupying the room. He ignored the things inside it that showed that the other man, like Dean himself, had people in his life that he cared about and saw fit to showcase for everyone else in the form of pictures. Sam, though, following his older brother, let his eyes bounce from photo to photo, some set in frames and placed on the mahogany desk, and others simply taped to the wall behind it. Glancing back at Stark, he saw that the brown-haired man's eyes had fallen on a specific picture, this one part of the collage on the creamy wall. Sam's eyes swept back to look at it, and swallowed when he saw Stark and another man, this one slightly smaller and blonde, grinning like idiots at whoever had taken the picture. Their arms were linked over each other's shoulders, but their bodies were contorted, bent over with Stark's fingers jabbed into the blonde's side, smiles beginning to transform into open mouths as laughter took over.

"Hawkeye?" Sam asked, and Dean looked up at the photo as Stark nodded.

"Yeah… we were celebrating another win against the crazies of the week, and I found out that he was ticklish when I accidentally touched his side. I couldn't stop after that, even with Cap saying he still had to take the picture, so he took it anyway…" Stark cleared his throat. "Sorry, it's not like you care."

"We do," Sam answered. "Dean just has a hard time showing it sometimes. But…" He hesitated. "The plan?"

Stark nodded, lowering himself into the one seat behind the desk while simultaneously motioning Sam toward the chair next to Dean's. "Clint's funeral is tomorrow morning, and as a result the Tower will be empty for at least a few hours, if not until after lunch. I'm giving you these -" He waved a set of key cards in front of them, "-so that you can get in with no problem. We leave, you sneak in, grab Death's ring, you sneak back out, we return."

"Just like that?" Dean asked doubtfully, "No trouble, no fuss?"

Stark shook his head. "Nope, and Clint said that you can meet him in his bedroom. He says that since that's where his bow is, he feels stronger in there."

"Great," Dean said, standing. "Nice doing business with you, Mr. Stark," he concluded sarcastically.

The older man frowned for a moment before apparently making a choice, standing and holding his right hand out for Dean to shake. "If you're ending the apocalypse, you may as well as call me Tony."

The green-eyed man eyed the other before sighing and gripping Tony's hand in a rough grasp, slightly surprised at the calluses he found. "Tony," he agreed.

Tony turned to Sam next, holding his hand out once more. "Sam, I trust that you'll be easier to deal with than big bro over there, so if you need anything, make sure you're the one to call, okay?" He joked. "And if you require assistance curing the brain washing Dean's got you in, don't hesitate to phone me, okay? I can get you in touch with an expert on cognitive recalibration."

"… brain washing?" Dean and Sam questioned in unison.

"And… cognitive recalibration?" Dean continued.

"Police and FBI claim Dean brain washed you, but no worries, Sam, I can tell you're fine. And it's an inside joke, sorry."

Sam stood up, joining the two shorter men as they headed out of the office, all in agreement for the first time since they had met. Directly before they joined the throng in the lobby, though, Tony stopped, turning once more to the brothers.

"And you wouldn't mind keeping me up to date, would you? I'd feel a bit better about knowing there's an apocalypse going on if I knew what was actually going on."

Dean opened his mouth, obviously about to revert back to his sarcasm from before, but Sam interrupted him. "Sure, no problem. As long as you tell us about anything supernatural that you come across. Don't go in without knowing what you're up against."

"In fact," Dean said, reciprocating the action that his younger brother had done just seconds ago, "Don't go in at all. Just call us and get out. Leave it to the professionals."

Tony rolled his eyes. "And here I thought we were friends."

Dean snorted. "Acquaintances, maybe. Friends?" He paused, then grinned lightly. "Maybe after the apocalypse."

"It's a deal," the billionaire answered, and then waved a hand in the direction of the lobby. "After you guys."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Clint stumbles across the world of the supernatural to find that Death wants him to deliver his ring to two hunters named Sam and Dean Winchester. Set during the end of Supernatural season five and before Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11123860/1/Time-of-the-Unknown .
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers or Supernatural.

Dean peaked around the corner of the hallway that led to Tony's office and private elevator, making sure it was empty before he snuck in. Sam followed close behind, his large frame surprisingly silent on the linoleum floors. Together, the two brothers made their way to the elevator, slipped inside, and placed the keycard in a special slot. The area lit up green, and Dean jabbed a finger at the button labeled "92", Clint's floor according to Tony. Almost immediately, the doors closed with a snick and the elevator began to rise.

When they exited, Dean rubbed at his ears, an annoyed expression on his face. At Sam's questioning look, Dean replied.

"My ears popped. Who knows why they need elevators that fast."

"It's Stark," Sam pointed out.

"Good point," Dean grumbled.

Together, the two walked down the main hallway, headed in the direction of Hawkeye's bedroom.

* * *

Trees lined the small graveyard, bunching the graves together in relatively organized sets of six by five. Occasionally, an extra stone or two would be shoved in if they were small, making the group take on a slightly disjointed appearance. Clint Barton, they had been told, would not be joining one of these sections. Not because he wasn't small, because in comparison to the rest of the Avengers, he was, but rather because, in Fury's words, "He'll blend in better this way. Stick out less."

Steve hated the idea that, even in death, Clint still had to hide in the shadows. The only thing that had appeased him was Natasha's quiet, "You know he'd prefer it this way."

"I know," he had replied, his voice just as soft. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

They had been told everything before the service, before their friend and fellow Avenger was lowered into the ground, but they still had yet to see the ceremony completed. Steve glanced at Tony as the goateed man answered his phone in the middle of the service, the pastor's voice droning on in the background as the blonde focused on Tony's words.

"No, JARVIS, I don't care. Leave it, okay?"

Two short sentences, a click as he hung up, and within seconds Steve found his own phone buzzing in his pocket. Turning away from the rest of their group, small because of their no reporters rule and, however much they loathed it, because most of SHIELD still hated Clint after Loki, Steve brought the StarkPhone to his ear.

"This is Steve," he answered.

"Captain," JARVIS replied, and Steve shifted even further away from Tony, conscious of the fact that this was the very AI that the man had just hung up on.

"Is something wrong, JARVIS?"

"Two men entered Master Stark's private elevator and exited on Master Clint's floor. They had a keycard, but my sensors still recognized their faces from the FBI's most wanted list."

"Who are they?" Steve asked urgently, already eying the pastor, Tony, and Natasha.

"My sensors say Dean and Sam Winchester, Captain. They are most known for escaping the FBI multiple times and are currently presumed dead, but that is apparently not the case. Captain, they were arrested due to multiple charges of assault, arson, murder, and more, but their most common charge was grave desecration."

Steve froze, his gaze focusing on Clint's casket at the front of the ceremony, sheltered between the gravestones of the cemetery that he would be buried in. "You said Clint's floor?"

"I did, Captain. If I may, they are currently approaching the bedroom."

"I'll be right there, JARVIS. Don't let them enter, and don't let them leave."

"I will do my best, Captain."

Steve looked in the direction of Tony before he snuck toward Natasha and Bruce, who were standing together. He tapped them both on the shoulder simultaneously, holding a finger to his lips in the universal "shush" sign.

"Cap?" Natasha questioned in a quiet voice, and if he weren't familiar with her, Steve never would have recognized the slight hitch that appeared, along with a couple of fast blinks, almost as if she were attempting to clear something from her eyes. Steve didn't ask if it was moisture, if it was tears, or if it was the life she had seen with Clint fading away faster than his corpse would decompose.

"We have trouble," Steve murmured. "And we can't let Stark know. He already ignored JARVIS. Bruce, can you stay here with Tony and Thor? I don't think this is a situation where we need the big guns."

"What's the situation?" Bruce asked.

"JARVIS alerted me to two men who entered Clint's quarters. Two men by the names of Dean and Sam Winchester, who apparently have records of grave desecration. I told JARVIS not to let them into Clint's room, but also not to let them leave."

"Let's go, then," Natasha answered grimly. "Those two have been on SHIELD's list for a while. I would even go so far as to say that they make me feel good about my past."

* * *

It should have been alarming, Sam figured, that Clint's door was locked. It should have been a sign of things to come, no matter how cheesy that may have seemed. It was a hard, steel door, its frame literally bolted into the wall it was attached to, and Sam wouldn't hesitate to say that, now that they had made it this far, getting through the thing would be their largest obstacle so far, if they ignored the fact that they had been handcuffed by Tony Stark's guards and almost arrested and subsequently sent to jail. That is, getting through the door would be their largest obstacle so far, if the door had been made of iron. Steel, though? That, they could work with.

Dean pounded on the door, right smack in the middle of it, and Sam shuddered with the walls as the resulting sound echoed through the hall and across the tower's structure, the carpet shivering beneath their feet.

"Not so loud," the younger brother hissed, and his eyes instinctively darted from side to side, looking for people that could overhear them but weren't there. Even with Stark's help, they had been lucky so far. It would only take one mistake.

Dean rolled his eyes in response, and Sam rolled his own right back.

"There's no need to knock the door down," Sam insisted. "Hawkeye's a ghost now. He doesn't need doors."

"Jeez, why didn't I think of that?" Dean replied sarcastically. "I was letting him know that we're here, genius!"

"And you couldn't do it silently? Perhaps with a little less noise?"

"The tower's haunted, remember? The guards'll just think that it's Hawkeye's ghost."

"Wow, well aren't you a confident pair," another voice remarked, and they turned to see a ghost flicker into sight beside them. It wore a pair of jeans and a black jacket, standing a few inches below Dean's height, and Sam shoved his brother none too gently when he saw him snickering at the purple shoes on the ghost's feet. The ghost rolled his eyes at them before continuing. "Did you guys do any research, or did you happen to forget about JARVIS?"

"Stark's AI?" Sam asked, surprise blinking onto his face. "There's not much info about him online. I mean, there's the initial article about his creation, but not a lot beyond that. And Stark's on our side, anyway. He's the one who got us these."

He finished by waving his keycard in the air, but the dead superhero was already shaking his head. "The security system may not care who's holding those, but JARVIS sure does. And JARVIS has both facial recognition and access to the FBI's database."

"Well, shit," Dean said, perfectly summing up Sam's own feelings.

"Dean," Sam said, putting a bit of inflection in his voice with the hope that Dean would actually understand it. Sometimes it seemed like Dean had an "off" button on his Sammy translator.

"Yeah, I'm thinking," Dean answered, turning to begin pacing.

"Think later, okay?" Sam replied. "We need to get out of here first." He turned to Clint, anxiousness already visible on his face. "Do you have the ring?"

The purple Avenger nodded. "I wouldn't be very good at keeping deals if I didn't, now would I?"

Dean snorted. "Maybe so, but you wouldn't believe the number of problems we've run into getting these things."

Clint answered with a raised eyebrow. Sam watched Dean's own eyebrows momentarily push together in what was likely a bit of jealousy toward the one eyebrow trick, and shoved his brother again. Dean shoved back, envy forgotten. "Lemme guess," Clint said. "A whole lot of 'em."

Sam and Dean nodded simultaneously, and Clint sighed.

"Well, here's to hoping you guys can muster up enough luck to beat the devil." A ring was held up with the words, and Sam didn't hesitate to reach out for it, his fingers closing around smooth metal and air as Clint's ghost disappeared. The ring itself was plain, a smooth onyx covering the surface and giving off a dull, useless, and worthless appearance. Sam and Dean both knew far differently.

Both of them froze as a thumping sound rattled the black carpet under their feet, sounding suspiciously like footsteps on stairs.

"Are those…?" Sam asked, his head tilting in thought.

Dean shot him a look, green eyes wide. "Dude… we're about to face the Avengers, and all you can say are two measly words?"

"Who says they're the Avengers?"

"I do," Clint answered grimly, suddenly reappearing in front of them. "I checked. You've got Captain America and Black Widow heading your way."

Dean's eyes widened further, if that was even possible, and Sam shot him a look. "No fanboying, Dean. We don't have time."

"I'm not fanboying."

"Course you're not," Sam smirked before his face faded back into solemness. "But we've gotta go."

"Wait," Dean said, tugging on Sam's arm.

The younger of the two brothers shot him a look that clearly said, "What?"

"Hawkeye's ghost… think we should let him know what's going to happen?"

"Let me know about what?" Hawkeye responded, blue-gray eyes narrowing.

Sam took a deep breath, but still nodded in acknowledgement of Dean's question. "But make it quick," he warned, his eyes instinctively moving in the direction of the stairs.

Dean's head gave a quick bob.

"Hawkeye, I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but Sammy and I will be salting and burning your corpse so you don't turn into a homicidal, vengeance-driven, crazy and out-of-your-freakin'-mind ghost. We'd apologize, but it has to be done so you don't end up killing anyone. Don't say you won't, because you will. Maybe not now, but definitely later, because the you right now won't be the same you in God knows how many years." He took a fast breath after the speedy speech and then looked at Sam. "Okay, let's go."

"I said quick, Dean, not insensitive," Sam snapped back before peering at Clint apologetically, his eyebrows closing the gap between each other and his face softening.

To both of the Winchesters' surprise, Clint just shook his head in response. "Death said that a reaper will be coming to pick me up after I gave you guys the ring. I didn't know about the whole homicidal and crazy ghost thing, but I was already planning on saying yes. I don't wanna be stuck here when everyone else that I know dies. So thanks, but let's not alarm the other Avengers, okay?"

"We'll hold you to it, alright?" Dean answered. "If we hear of any more pranks or ghosts haunting this tower, you're gone, and we'll only ask questions after your bones are ash and smoke."

"And I'll hold you to that," Clint said with a slight smirk. "Good luck with the whole devil thing, and don't head my way for another few years, got it?"

"Got it," Sam promised. "Now, Dean, if we could…?"

* * *

The last thing Steve expected to see, once he and Natasha finally reached Clint's floor (thanks, JARVIS, for locking down every elevator), was Sam and Dean Winchester casually leaning against the wall next to Clint's bedroom door. It was his first time actually seeing their faces, so he exchanged a quick glance with Natasha to confirm that yes, it actually was them, before he whipped his shield off his arm and watched it clang off the wall just above Sam's head. Reaching out, Steve caught the circular weapon as it rebounded back to him.

Dean's eyes shot from Natasha's body to Steve's, and even on the opposite end of the hallway, Steve could practically see the steam rising from them. Sam's head rose back up from where it had ducked down, and as the two Avengers advanced, the two Winchesters stood to their full heights. Dean, Steve saw, was just shorter than Steve himself. Sam, on the other hand… well, Steve figured he had never had problems with being short.

"Dean's been known to be protective," Natasha whispered to him. "I never believed it, though."

Steve just held back a snort. Natasha barely got anything wrong, at least in regards to analyzing people.

"It just makes him more unpredictable, though," the redhead continued. "And dangerous."

"And Sam?" Steve said lowly, soft enough that the two Winchesters couldn't overhear.

Natasha shot him a glance. "He's been the brainwashed one, the brother that tried to get out but got pulled back in. Previous descriptions include adorable, puppy-like, innocent, smart, and life-saving."

Steve gave her an incredulous look. Natasha raised an eyebrow in return, and he just barely held back the regular pang of jealousy at the trick.

"I'm not kidding," she said. "Those are actual words that actual people have called him."

"And he's a murder suspect…?"

"Accessory, but… yeah…"

* * *

Dean leaned in close to Sam, and the younger brother dipped his head in order to hear him better.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Dean asked, and Sam shrugged.

"I don't even know if they've realized they've stopped moving."

"… and you're sure this plan will work?"

Sam glanced over at his brother. Dean's lips were pulled down in a frown, and creases bookmarked the area between his eyebrows as he thought.

"Hopefully," Sam whispered.

""Hopefully" better work, then. Cause I've got nothing."

"The stairs were locked, and Clint said that the elevator's been shut down. The only reason those two are here is probably because they've got JARVIS on their side. This is the only route left."

"I still think we should've charged them as soon as the door opened," Dean muttered, "It could've worked."

Sam shook his head, brown hair flopping back and forth. "It may have resulted with one of us, or them, falling down the stairs. I'd prefer to avoid the hospital right now."

"And yet, Captain America almost took your head off."

Sam shifted, his shoulders hunching a little at the memory. "I ducked."

"And if you hadn't?"

* * *

Steve caught Dean's glare, and he nudged Natasha with a shoulder, eying the two brothers. "What do you think they're talking about?"

"Judging by where Dean's eyes are? How he's gonna murder you for almost killing his baby brother."

"Sam ducked."

"And if he hadn't?"

* * *

"C'mon, Sammy, let's get this done," Dean muttered. "This standoff is feeling a bit too medieval-esque."

"I thought you liked the middle ages?"

"Not with Captain America and the Black Widow."

* * *

"They're moving," Natasha murmured, her hands tightening on her glock. "And we stopped."

"Yeah," Steve said back. "But something doesn't seem right. I don't see any weapons on them."

"All the easier to take them down, then."

Steve nodded firmly, clenching his jaw in an attempt to dispatch his worries and reaffirm his thinking that the two men opposite the Avengers were criminals. Disconnecting his shield from his arm yet again, he flung it at the brothers and watched as they both ducked. Natasha raised her gun, but Steve shook his head at her while catching his shield as it bounced back to him.

"Those were just warnings," Steve called down the hallway. "What are you doing here?"

"You wouldn't believe us if we told you, Captain," Sam answered, but Steve was watching Dean, whose eyes had narrowed as soon as the other blonde spoke.

"Try me," the Avenger countered, slightly lowering his shield. He saw Sam's eyes follow it, and something shifted in the younger male's face. What moved, Steve didn't know. He could only hope it meant something good.

"We're hunters," Sam said.

"Is that supposed to mean something to us?" Natasha asked, speaking to the Winchesters for the first time.

"No," Sam replied. "I don't think so, anyway. Not unless you know what hunters do."

"They hunt," Steve answered.

"C'mon, that's barely touching the surface," Dean said, taking a step forward so that he partially blocked his younger brother from sight. "Sammy, tell 'em what we do."

"Why do I have to?" Sam protested, and Steve watched as one long arm waved in the air, fingertips on the other side of Dean also moving.

"Cause you're the college-boy, geek-boy," Dean said, and Steve wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a bit of a smile in the smirk that the blonde directed to Sam.

"Not an answer, Dean," Sam said.

"Alright, boys, break it up," Natasha interrupted. "If you want us to listen instead of fight, you better get talking."

Steve glanced at her, and saw that, like him, the other Avenger had lowered her weapon, but not put it away just yet. The Winchesters were not to be trusted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU: Clint stumbles across the world of the supernatural to find that Death wants him to deliver his ring to two hunters named Sam and Dean Winchester. Set during the end of Supernatural season five and before Iron Man 3 and Captain America 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11123860/1/Time-of-the-Unknown .
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Avengers or Supernatural.

To say that Tony was startled when he realized that two of his fellow Avengers were missing from his other fellow Avenger's funeral service was an understatement. He had stood there for several minutes fuming after JARVIS's call, slightly - just slightly, he swore - upset that his AI had even seen fit to attempt to argue with him. He supposed he had given it too many examples between himself and Pepper.

He had tried to focus on the service, then, staring at the pastor, before discovering, after more than a few minutes, that he was really just watching, with the words entering one ear and exiting the other. Once that realization was made, Tony had subconsciously checked to see if any of the others had noticed his lack of attention.

What  _he_  noticed was the look of utter thought on Thor's face, the suspicious absences of Steve and Natasha, and the way Bruce was watching him instead of the pastor. Just as Tony's eyes met the doctor's, Bruce shifted away, his eyes shying back toward Clint's casket.

Tony rolled his eyes, despite being conscious of the fact that his shades covered the movement. Didn't anyone ever understand that looking away just made them more suspicious?

"Bruce," he wheedled in an undertone, careful to not distract anyone else. "What do you know that I don't? Where are Cap and Tasha?"

"Firstly," Bruce replied, " _Na_ tasha will kill you if she hears that you called her that. Secondly…"

Bruce's pause lasted long enough that Tony recognized it for what it was: a stalling tactic.

"Yes?" He prompted, drawing the one word out and poking the other scientist on the shoulder. For the first time, Tony realized that Bruce was wearing a dark purple shirt; it wasn't black, but it was so much more fitting for so many reasons.

"Yes, my friend?" Thor interjected, and Tony jumped a bit, just keeping the toes of his dress shoes on the grass. For such a large guy, the Asgardian had startling sneaking abilities. "What are you hiding from us? Where are the Captain and Lady Natasha?"

Bruce hesitated more. "I'm not supposed to tell you, Tony," he admitted.

"I won't say that you did, promise," Tony said. "I'll say that I figured it out on my own… it'll just be stretching the truth a bit." He let a small grin shape his mouth, his lips curving at the corners just enough to be the slightly cheerful features of a grieving man experiencing happiness for the first time since a close friend's death. SHIELD agents weren't the only ones who could act.

Bruce didn't say anything, but his eyes shot toward Clint's casket and then back to Tony's, a sure sign that even if his body hadn't physically moved, he was beginning to see Tony's side of things.

"Doctor?" Thor prompted.

Bruce sighed. "Don't call me… you know what, fine. If you want to get Steve angry this soon after-" He halted, his gaze once more shifting to Clint's coffin.

Tony barely bit back a full out smile. If nothing else, he would obey Clint's wishes to not cause their teammates even more grief. Sure, they would be happy originally, with the knowledge that he wasn't completely gone and had stuck around, but then they would be forced to go through the grieving process once more when Clint said "yes" to whatever reaper came to pick him up. If they had any say in it, then Tony and Thor would be the only Avengers to ever know the full truth about Clint's ghost. They would be the only ones to ever grieve twice for the same man.

Bruce shook his head, and Tony tried to pay attention again.

"C'mon," the purple-clad Avenger -  _wrong_ , Tony's mind hissed,  _it's the wrong man, wrong Avenger, why is he the one wearing purple?_  - said. "I'll tell you on the way."

Together, the three friends snuck away, and Tony briefly felt a pang of guilt before telling himself that Clint would understand. Glancing back, Tony counted Nick Fury, Maria Hill, two more SHIELD agents, the pastor, and two others who hung back from the ceremony at opposite ends of the gathering. One, Tony realized with a start, looked extremely similar to the Avenger lying in the casket at the front of the service. The other appeared slightly familiar, but Tony couldn't figure out where he had seen the man before.*

Tony turned back to see where they were going, and just stopped himself from colliding with Bruce, who had halted next to one of the two limos that the Avengers had taken to Barton's funeral. The black vehicle stretched out along the curb of grass, and Tony didn't hesitate to hop into the back. Thor and Bruce quickly followed.

"To Avengers Tower, Happy," Bruce said quietly. "As fast as you can."

Tony watched as the brown-haired scientist turned to stare out the window, but he couldn't let his friend get away that easily. "Bruce, what were you saying? About Cap and Natasha?"

Bruce sighed, and Thor put on an encouraging smile. "Come, Doctor Banner, surely it isn't cause for that much sadness?"

Bruce looked up at that, an unrecognizable look passing over his face. "Steve got a call from JARVIS; the Winchester brothers broke into the tower and went up to Clint's floor. According to Steve, they're both known for grave desecration. Steve and Natasha went to stop them. JARVIS isn't to let them into Clint's room, but he also isn't supposed to let them out again; they should be taken care of by the time we get there."

"What?!"

Tony hadn't meant to let the outburst escape. He knew that the Winchesters worked well in the shadows, and that Clint didn't want to let the rest of the Avengers know about him, but it wasn't just them that this mission was about. Not anymore. Somehow, it had transformed into a universe-saving, devil-beating war, with Sam, Dean, Clint, and that ring in the very middle of it all.

"No, that can't happen!" Tony continued. He leaned forward in his seat, straining against the seatbelt that he had unconsciously buckled. "Happy, step on it! We can't let them get arrested!"

Thor stared at him in horror, eyes widened and mouth gaping, but Tony shook his head, still leaning against the leather strap supposedly keeping him safe. He was safe, but what about the Winchesters? What about the universe? No matter how much he hated it, some peoples' wishes had to be pushed to the side with this if it meant that the world could still be saved.

"Tony?" Bruce asked. "What are you saying?"

"I can't believe this!" Tony threw his hands up in the air. "Happy, I thought I said to step on it?!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but the traffic-"

"I don't care about the traffic! Dammit, JARVIS!"

"Stark," Thor said, his voice lowering with a clear warning tone settling in. "Be careful of what you say."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Thor," Tony snapped. "If Sam and Dean get arrested, the world is a goner!"

* * *

"You're lying," Steve said, faintly realizing that his shield had lowered even more. He hefted it higher, unwilling to take any chances. "Monsters aren't real."

"Oh, yeah," Dean snorted. "Says the guy who fought against aliens not six months ago. Sure, monsters aren't real. You keep thinking that, and one day you're gonna look back on this conversation feeling pretty damn stupid."

"Wow," Steve heard faintly from Sam, "You sure got over your fanboy phase pretty quickly."

"Nuh uh, Sammy," Steve made out from Dean. "I don't fanboy."

"Sure… You keep thinking that, Dean."

"Hey!" Natasha called, still in her position next to Steve. "We were having a conversation?"

"Oh, we were?" Dean asked sarcastically. "I thought we were having a session with our therapist, who just happens to resemble Captain America."

"Oh, c'mon," Steve protested. He glanced down at his suit, tie, and dress shoes before looking back up at the brothers' jeans, plaid shirts, and hiking boots with Dean's additional leather jacket. "I just… monsters? What happened to you guys being criminals with murder charges?"

* * *

"Let's just hope we're not too late," Tony huffed as he sprinted up the stairs of the Avengers Tower. "JARVIS, could you maybe open up an elevator?"

"I am sorry, sir, but I was ordered to shut them down."

Tony groaned. "No need to sound so frosty, JARVIS."

"Do you not have a… ride over, is it?" Thor asked, sounding distinctively less winded than Tony and Bruce.

"Over ride!" Tony gasped, stopping to bend over with his hands on his knees. "Thor, you're a genius!" He paused, sucking in a deep breath. "JARVIS, over ride code Turkey Omelet New York Steve. And get a freaking elevator down to the… what floor are we going up to?"

"Seven," Bruce answered, an incredulous look still on his face after their conversation in the limo.

"Floor seven, then, JARVIS. Destination is floor 92."

"Very well, sir. Over ride code activated. An elevator will be waiting on floor seven."

"Thank goodness," Tony groaned.

Together, the three Avengers trekked the rest of the way up the flight of stairs, exiting directly next to the open elevator. Gathering inside, they watched the numbers zoom upward. Several seconds went by before anyone spoke.

"So…" Bruce started. "That over ride code?"

"Shut up," Tony said immediately. He paused a bit, observing how fast the numbers changed. "… it stands for Tony S."

"Ah…"

"Not one word."

"I wasn't saying anything."

* * *

Someone, Steve groaned, had to have it out for him today, because not only did the rest of the Avengers show up just before he was about to whirl his shield at Dean Winchester, but they showed up in the elevator. The very same elevator that Steve and Natasha had been required to pass on, and were therefore forced to climb every single set of stairs to their destination.

"Doctor Banner," Steve greeted curtly, and watched as Natasha nodded at the others. "Tony. Thor. What a surprise."

"What a surprise is right, Cap," Tony answered, pushing his way in front of both Steve and Natasha. He turned so that his back was to the corridor's wall, enabling him to see both ends of the hallway and, as a result, both parties taking up residence on the carpet. "Imagine my own surprise when I discovered that JARVIS betrayed me, and for  _you_  of all people."

"Stark," Dean said from the far end of the corridor. "It's about time you showed up."

"You know each other?" Steve asked, his mouth opening a little in shock.

"As of yesterday, yeah," Tony answered. "But no worries, Capsicle; Dean's just as big a jerk as he seems to be, but he's not a crook. And he's certainly not a murderer."

"I'm not sure whether to take offense to that or not," Dean said. "But we can settle that later. Tony, I need you to let the Captain and Black Widow over there know that Sam and I aren't gonna harm any of Clint's stuff."

"You already got what you came for?" Tony questioned.

Steve peered at what Sam held up in response, something that looked like a ring.

"We got it," Sam assured.

There was a beat of silence all around, from all seven men and woman, before another, very familiar voice spoke up.

"Well, this is all very well and good, but I think the faster Sam and Dean stop the apocalypse, the better off the whole world will be."

Steve didn't know about any of the others, but in that moment, no matter how cliché it may have sounded, his heart seemed to stop. His eyes whipped from the ring in Sam's hand to the shorter man standing in the middle of the hallway, his body so pale that Steve could literally see through to the purple wall on the man's other side.

"Clint."

The word drifted through Steve's head, bumping around between his ears before he managed to recognize his own voice.

"Holy…" Steve continued, unsure of exactly what word should follow.

"Hey," the archer answered, giving a little bit of a wave.

"Hey? That's all you have to say?" Steve asked, feeling his heart thump at top speed in his chest and his jaw clench. Looking to his left, he saw that Natasha's face was essentially emotionless, though he knew that it wasn't like that inside her. Behind him, Bruce was stoic while Thor lacked any surprise. In front of Steve, Tony just looked glad to see his best friend. "Tony was right about you haunting the tower all along, but you never showed up to the rest of us until now."

"You're right… and I'm sorry, but I actually do have a good explanation."

"Do share," Natasha said, speaking for the first time in several minutes.

To Steve's additional surprise, it wasn't Clint who answered.

"Ghosts don't start out very powerful," Sam said, taking a few steps forward. Steve's fingers clenched around his shield, but he didn't lift it any higher. "Hawkeye would've been able to see you, hear you, follow you around and talk to you, maybe even lift a few things if they're not too heavy, but you wouldn't be able to see and hear him until he got strong enough."

"But once you got strong enough?" Steve asked.

Clint hesitated, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. "… I didn't want you guys to grieve more than once. I couldn't do that to you, no matter how much I wanted a proper chance to say goodbye. The only reason I played any tricks and then showed myself to Tony and Thor is because I needed to get something to the Winchesters. In fact, the only reason I'm still around is because of them."

"Why's that?" It was Bruce who spoke up then, and Steve realized that the scientist hadn't been told everything.

"The apocalypse," Clint answered. "They needed Death's ring. He gave it to me so I could get it to them. As soon as a reaper shows up, I'm gone again."

"Look, we're sorry for the confusion," Sam said, pulling Steve's attention back toward the brothers. "But in all honesty, we've been looking for this ring for a long time, and the apocalypse has been going on for even longer…"

"You need to leave," Bruce guessed. Both Winchesters nodded in confirmation.

"All in favor, say aye!" Tony said.

"Aye!" Thor answered, and Steve watched as Clint, Tony, and Bruce raised their hands. After a moment of hesitation, Steve lifted his own, and all eyes fell on Natasha. Another second passed, and one of her hands rose from her glock.

"You're free to go," Steve told them.

"Our earlier agreement still stands," Tony added.

"We'll let you know how it goes," Sam replied.

"Come personally, okay?" Tony said. "The tower is plenty large. You can't have Barton's floor, but I could get two more set up."

"It's a deal," Dean answered.

The Avengers all parted as Sam and Dean walked toward the elevator, the younger brother tucking the ring into his front pocket. As the metal doors closed, both raised their hands in farewell.

"Good luck, Hawkeye," Sam said.

"Good luck," Clint replied.

* * *

Two weeks later:

Tony hadn't been very surprised to hear from Dean Winchester just a week and a half after they parted. It had been a shock that the apocalypse was over and the devil defeated that quickly, but Tony had been looking forward to getting the news. Dean hadn't said much, though. His voice had been rough, whether from disuse or something else, none of the Avengers had wanted to say, and his message was short.

"This is Dean. I'm coming to New York soon. I'll probably stop by on Saturday around noon; make sure everyone's there. Don't call this number back."

Two days after the message, and all of the Avengers were sprawled around their joint living room, with Tony in the back behind the bar. Thor leaned forward in his chair, propped his chin in one hand, and observed the clock for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"He is late."

"Wonderful observation, Thor," Tony said.

"In Dean's defense, he did say  _around_  noon," Steve pointed out, leaning back with a sigh. "And it's only twelve thirty. Let's give him some more time."

"You're rather casual for someone who wanted to take his head off just a few weeks ago," Natasha said.

Steve shrugged. "Guess he's grown on me."

"Really?" Tony said. "And doesn't it make anyone else curious?"

"Make us curious about what?" Bruce asked.

"The fact that Dean said he'd be stopping by, instead of both of them-"

"Master Stark," JARVIS interrupted. "Dean Winchester just entered the elevator. I suggested he get off on the common floor; he is on his way."

"There we go," Tony said, "Right on time!"

Thor shot him a somewhat wounded look. "He is still late."

The elevator doors opened with a hiss, and Dean walked out, rubbing at his ears.

"Still popping," the hunter said. "Stark, you've gotta fix that thing."

"My things don't need fixing," Tony answered. "And you look like hell."

"Thanks," Dean answered, but Tony and the rest of the Avengers still frowned at him. Tony hadn't been lying; the eldest of the Winchester brothers really did look awful. His voice was still rough, though now that he was here, Tony realized that it must have been from crying, because his normally green eyes were tinged with red, and his cheeks were still slightly puffy. His hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in days, and his clothes were rumpled and obviously slept in.

Dean glanced around, his eyes taking in the scene.

"Hawkeye's moved on?"

"Yeah," Tony said, moving from the bar to one of the couches. He plopped down next to Steve and took a long drink from the glass in his right hand, offering the glass in his left to Dean. "Take the drink and then sit down."

"Tony," Steve said, frowning at the billionaire.

"It's five o'clock somewhere," Dean mumbled, taking the glass and downing it. He sat in the chair next to the couch, sinking into the soft material as if he hadn't relaxed since he last left the tower.

Silence answered him for several seconds before Tony spoke up. "Anyway, one of those reapers came not too long after you and Sam left. We all said our goodbyes, swore we wouldn't grieve too much, had a nice mush fest, and watched Clint walk into the light."

"Good," Dean said, his eyes practically glued to the glass in his hands. "I'm glad something went as planned."

"Dean?" Steve questioned, finally asking the question that they had all been wondering about. "What happened? Is the apocalypse…?"

"It's done," Dean whispered, looking up and staring at all of them. "It's all done. I just wanted to stop by before I left the life for good." He paused, one hand detaching from the glass and reaching for his shirt, clenching it next to his chest. Looking down, as if in surprise, the blonde shook his head and almost forcefully let go of the fabric. "Yeah, the apocalypse is over. Lucifer's back where he belongs. Hawkeye's probably in Heaven. I'm headed to a nice, normal old life with a girlfriend and a picket fence. And Sammy…"

This time, Dean looked back down at his glass and let his hand travel back up to his shirt, gripping it hard and tugging at it as if it were something else. The silence lengthened until one of the others cleared his throat. "What about Sam, Dean?" Bruce asked, his voice quiet. "What about Sam?"

Dean's gaze came back up, and Tony started when he realized that tears were actually pooling along the other man's eyelashes.

"He's gone," Dean said, his voice strangled and harsh. "He sacrificed himself for… for the whole, entire, fucking universe."

The Avengers stared at him, not completely taking the information in. They had lost Clint, found him, and lost him again just in time for Dean Winchester to lose his little brother.

Tony drew in a deep, choked breath that rattled in his lungs, and he found himself staring at the arc reactor, the only thing keeping him alive and his heart pumping.

"They're both gone," Tony whispered.

_THE END_

**Author's Note:**

> Also if any of you want to drop by my tumblr, it's @bookdancerfics. I'm trying to post updates and things like that. Hope to see you all there! :)


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